The silencein my office is deafening as I try to work while Francine is upstairs packing her things. Her heat was over this morning, and just like that, she’s packing to leave for her apartment. She decided to be away from us for the weekend until Nora starts school again.
My wolf howls in protest, clawing at my insides, demanding I go to her, claim her properly, make her understand she belongs here with my pack. But I sit here instead, paralyzed by emotions I’ve spent years burying beneath cold logic and stern control.
The last three days flash through my mind in vivid detail. The way her body melted into mine when I took her ass for the first time. The taste of her slick on my tongue as I claimed every inch of her. The way she screamed my name when my knot locked inside her, filling her with my seed. My cock stirs at the memories, hardening painfully against my zipper despite my attempts to focus on business.
It’s not just the sex. It’s the way she looked at me afterward, those green eyes filled with trust.
It’s the soft sounds she makes in her sleep, curled against my chest. It’s how perfectly she fits with our pack, bringing warmth to a home that’s felt cold for too long.
“Fuck,” I mutter, slamming my fist against the desk. Papers scatter, but I don’t care. Nora is at her friend’s house for the week, giving us time to recover from the frenzy of Francine’s first heat. My brothers left this morning for meetings about our new resort project, leaving me alone with her for the first time since her heat broke.
And what am I doing?Sitting here like a fucking coward while she packs her things.
I stare at the door, willing myself to move. I need to go to her. To tell her what I want. What I need. My hand comes up to touch the place on my neck where I almost marked her during her heat. I had to use every ounce of control not to sink my teeth into her flesh, to make her mine forever.
“Just tell her,” I growl to myself. “Tell her to stay.”
It sounds so simple when I say it aloud. But nothing about this situation is simple. What if she regrets what happened? What if she’s relieved to be leaving?
I push away from my desk and stand, pacing the length of my office like a caged animal. My wolf is restless, urging me to action, to claim what’s ours before it’s too late.
“She belongs with us,” I mutter, trying to convince myself as much as my inner wolf. “She belongs with me.”
Decision made, I stride toward the door.
I’ll tell her directly. No games, just honest words from an alpha who knows what he wants. I’ll ask her to stay, not just as Nora’s nanny, but as our omega. As my mate. If she accepts, I want to mark her immediately. I want to make it official. Make it permanent.
The stairs feel longer than usual as I make my way to her room. I pause outside her door, listening for movement inside.What if she rejects me?
“Stop being a fucking coward,” I growl to myself, knocking firmly on the door.
No answer.
I turn the doorknob and push the door open slowly, prepared to announce my presence so I don’t startle her. The scent of her hits me immediately, cherry blossoms and heat, though the latter is much fainter now. Her suitcase lay open on the floor, clothes neatly folded inside. The sight of them makes my stomach clench with anxiety. I hate the idea of her leaving, of her things no longer being in my home.
The bathroom door is closed, steam seeping out from underneath it. I can still hear the shower running. I should wait for her to finish, but something on the bed catches my eye. Papers, scattered across the comforter. Newspaper clippings, from the look of them. Old, yellowed with age.
Curious, I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed, picking up one of the clippings. My breath catches in my throat as I recognize the headline immediately: “LOCAL BUSINESS COMPLEX FIRE CLAIMS TWELVE LIVES.”
My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at the grainy image of the burning building—the building where my parents worked. This is exactly where they died. I know every detail of that photo, and I have stared at it countless times over the years during my hunt for the person responsible.
Why the fuck does Francine have these?
My hands start to shake as I pick up another clipping, this one detailing the investigation. The fire had been started in the basement, with accelerants used to ensure maximum damage. Twelve dead, including my mother and fathers. I was eighteen when it happened, just starting college. I had to drop out to take care of Nora, who was just a baby then.
Another clipping describes the theories about who might have done it. Disgruntled employees. Corporate rivals. Random psychopaths. No suspects were ever officially charged. The casewent cold. But I never stopped looking. Never stopped searching for answers, for justice.
And now, somehow, Francine has these same articles. Hidden away in her room. Why?
A dark suspicion begins to take root in my mind. Was she investigating me? My family? Is that why she applied for the nanny position to get close to us for some reason? To find out what I know?
The shower stops, and I hear movement in the bathroom. My breathing becomes shallow, my pulse racing. I feel betrayed, confused. The omega I was about to ask to stay forever, to become my mate, has been keeping secrets. Secrets connected to the worst day of my life.
The bathroom door opens, and Francine steps into the room with only a towel wrapped around her slender body. Her long red hair is wet, clinging to her shoulders and back. For a moment, I’m distracted by the sight of her. She’s riveting.
Then her eyes meet mine, widening with shock when she sees what I’m holding. Her face pales, the freckles across her nose standing out in stark relief against her suddenly bloodless skin.
“Kieran,” she gasps, one hand clutching her towel tighter, the other reaching toward me as if to take the clippings away. “I—I can explain.”
